


Children's Games

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-01
Updated: 2009-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-19 03:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Dominique and Lysander with their childlike naivety make up their own game that marks not only the beginning of their friendship but the direction of their lives as well. Everything is acceptable. The only rule is that there are no rules to follow, and they both have to accept the challenges they present each other with -- challenges that shame ...





	Children's Games

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  
  **Lysander**  
  
I like jacks, Exploding Snap, but only when I'm the quickest. I love marbles, I always win. Frogs and Leaps is dumb, but not as dumb as chess and riddles. Then again, riddles have never been my thing. Find the Wizard, Quidditch, they're okay. Tag's all right too, but that's all about it.  
But there's a game you must never play. And I mean never! Even if your best friend asks you to.  
That game started with a pretty box, a pretty train with no driver, and a pretty girl. No, wait! Actually, I'm wrong. It began a little earlier with a disgusting, meaningless word like 'metastasis'.  
And it made mum cry.  
Later, I asked dad what it meant. He told me it's a word used only by doctors, like mister Henry. I told you it's a repulsive, stupid word! And at that moment I promised myself that when I grew up, I would never trust doctors and their cold, gray eyes and sullen faces. What do doctors know anyway? Their words suck, their trousers suck...So what would they know about my mum?  
And then, when I told mum so, she smiled and pulled me into a tight hug, and wouldn't let me go until dad came and grabbed my arm, dragging me away through that door.  
And the last thing that I saw was the flash of something big and bright hit the floor...  
  
  
“You like it, huh?”�  
I looked down at the box that glimmered through my fingers. It wasn't a particularly great box, but it was funny. Smooth and strangely warm.  
“I also think it's pretty. Magical...”�  
The box slipped away from my fingers, as a torrent of long hair tickled my face. I looked hopefully up.  
“Is it a treasure? A real one?”� I asked.  
“It is...”�  
I rolled my eyes. “I've never seen such a cool merry-go-round, ever! Maybe on Altair IV, but not on earth!”�  
“I have.”�  
I paused, my eyes fixed on the woman that sat beside me. “Where? A real merry-go-round? You're actually saying it exists?”� I asked again.  
For the first time, I was confused, perhaps angry. It was like someone played a game in front of my eyes, and I wasn't allowed to watch. And suddenly, that box seemed really stupid and dumb. I glanced at mum and saw her sigh.  
“Yes, my angel, here...”� she replied, and pressed one hand to her chest.  
“...and here.”� Her hand moved to my shirt and rested there, feeling my heart.  
I smiled. “And here too!”� I shouted, and leaned in, hiding my head in her arms.  
I knew that right now nothing really mattered. Not even games, not even that stupid box. Sometimes games should stop. Yeah, like when there are friends, or mum...  
“Lyssander, we'll take the bus to Kings Cross. Make it fast! I'll have to stay with your mum today.”�  
...or when dad's standing in the doorway.  
His voice reached out to me clear and loud. But I didn't want to listen; I didn't want to leave mum and go to Hogwarts. So I tried to ignore dad and held mum even tighter. And I could already feel dad's hands on my back...  
“Off you go, Lyss...”�  
Mum was now stirring as dad pulled me away. Eventually, I had to give up fighting, but as I turned to leave, I saw the box hang dismally in my hands.  
“Mum!”� I yelled from under the threshold, pushing dad away. “Mum, your treasure!”�  
“Keep it!”� she shouted. “My only treasure is you.”�  
And the door closed with a bang.  
  
  
The journey to King's Cross wasn't too bad. I had thought it would be horrible since mum wasn't coming with us. Dad, on the other hand, was nervous, anxious. I could see it in his face that sometimes turned yellow and some other times white, and in the hand that he kept running through his hair.  
This wasn't the first time I traveled by a means of transport used only by Muggles. I had seen Muggles before. In fact, I had read stories about them and their lives. Mum loved those stories; she loved all stories about weird stuff and mechanisms. Dad loved those stories too, but he wouldn't admit it. Even if he had a headache, he wouldn't tell anyone. His lips only got paler and his skin would stretch around his eyes and forehead, making him look a lot like a Chinese Prince.  
Thus, when I arrived at the station, I felt like a servant who was carrying not a simple trunk, but a treasure, accompanying his master to the palace.  
I didn't pay attention to what went on around me. I couldn't. I just followed dad as he marched his way forward through all those colours and sounds and smells.  
“Lyssander, come here!”� he suddenly commanded. He stood in front of a wall, exactly between the platforms nine and ten. I saw him glance at a few Muggles, who moved swiftly around. He would soon take my hand and push towards the giant wall. But I wasn't stupid. I knew how it worked. I just had to move my trunk and wait patiently for dad on the other side.  
I remembered the world that lied hidden behind the stone quite well; not as if I had already visited it, but as though I had read a description of it in a book. But the books in my library were nothing compared to the truth that awaited me there.  
However, something felt wrong, like I had been taken in by an old codger's empty promises.  
“What's this? Why are you not moving?”� dad asked after a couple of minutes.  
I shrugged. “I don't know. Does it always have to disappear like last year, like it does in the Tales of Beedle the Bard?”�  
Dad gave me a tired look. “Lyss, this is not a game. Will you stop treating everything like that?”�  
“Right,”� I muttered and took a step forward, carrying my trunk along. I pushed with all the strength I could muster, and threw myself on to the wall, prepared to feel my bones crack. I didn't. Instead, I found my doubting self standing in the middle of an even larger platform, where only the hustle and bustle of London could compare to the shifting mist of people that danced around me.  
Children were everywhere, parents followed them closely, and a black, shiny train filled the air with its fume.  
And there, in the midst of it all, I finally saw it.  
Dominique stood numb, trapped in a circle of children that jeered at her, and pushed her forcefully back.  
“Geek! Stupid geek!”� they shouted, and pushed her even harder towards the train.  
I saw her shook as she clung desperately on to the doors of the machine, clutching its steps with her hands. And then, just as she was about to break, one girl stepped forward and grabbed her trunk, opening it, and scattering its content around.  
Dominique dropped to her knees and rested there. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Words like 'I'm scared' or 'why?'  
But to me all those meant pretty much the same; they meant: 'I hurt like no one else on earth.'  
I pressed the box to my side and walked stooping over to her.  
The other children were now running away, laughing and cheering.  
“Dominique?”� I asked hesitantly.  
Her eyes shot up, staring menacingly at me. “You're mistaken. I'm stupid geek!”� she spat.  
Dominique had nothing right now, so I decided to share. I looked down at the box for the second time that day, pressing my hands to its surface, feeling it with my fingers.  
“Here!”� I said. “Take it.”�  
She looked at me disbelievingly, so I stretched my hand out, showing her the box. She took it silently. But something inside of me stirred as I asked: “You'll lend it sometimes, won't you?”�  
And Dominique laughed. Her laugh sometimes made me nervous. I guess there was some kind of boldness in it that made that air of mystery about her disappear. And unwillingly, I thought of those strange stories where there is no good and evil, but a huge, distressing void.  
“You give something and then you take it back?”� she grumbled. “If you want it, prove it!”�  
And that's how I think it all really started.  
The children, those children that had been making fun of Dominique since last year, were now forming scattering crowds, as they leapt on to the rapidly filling train.  
Dominique gave me a pinch on the arm. “What are you waiting for? Do it!”� she whispered.  
And I obeyed. I climbed into the front compartment, pushing myself through its doors. And there were all that machinery inside of it. I absentmindedly took my wand out and pointed it towards a moist sphere that boiled and bubbled. The ball spun on the spot and exploded with the sound of a single word.  
'That's all I need at the moment,' I thought and jumped out of the train, running triumphantly over to Dominique.  
Later on, when I attempted to recall those moments, I couldn't remember what became more vividly etched on my memory. Maybe it was that first ruse or Dominique's laughter or that panicked look on the children s' faces as the train began moving.  
But most of all it was dad's fury upon realising what had just happened.  
“What did you do? What did you do? Answer me!”� he screamed, grabbing my shirt and pushing me against a wall. He had been obviously searching for me, and the moving train made him worry.  
“Nothing!”� I replied, looking over to Dominique pleadingly. “Don't let him hit me!”�  
My screams had become louder, wilder, and I was certain that almost everyone was now looking at us. But I was not alone.  
The box fell on the floor with a sharp sound, and I saw Dominique try to push dad's hands out of my face.  
“You've got no right! Be quiet!”� he was shouting at her.  
But she wouldn't stop. She even kicked him in the ribs, causing him to choke.  
“Don't let him hit me!”� I repeated.  
“Game!”�  
And she started hitting dad again. “STOP! Don't do this!”�  
“Shut up!”�  
And that was it. Dad raised his hand and hit Dominique across the face. She immediately stopped fighting. Her hand flew to her cheek, and she turned her face away.  
Dad looked suddenly at her and realised that any words would be futile.  
He had never really liked Dominique. The game just fell into place. If Dominique had the box, I would do her every dare. Then, I would get the box and dare her back. Dead simple. And lots of fun!  
A stupid game? Maybe so, but it was our game!  



End file.
